


Make It A Home Sweet Home

by SkinwalkerSkiddo



Series: Home Sweet Home [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinwalkerSkiddo/pseuds/SkinwalkerSkiddo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Rick's group stays on the farm after the night the barn burned and work on building a life there. This focuses mostly on Daryl/Glenn. Loads of fluff, little hurt/comfort, some smut, and a dash of plot and action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make It A Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU I've wanted to play with for a little while now. Basically Rick's group stays on the farm after the night the barn burned and carry on from there. This focuses mostly on Daryl and Glenn. There is smut, loads of fluff, little hurt/comfort, farm animals, domestic schmoop, and a dash of plot and action. 
> 
> I don't consider myself to be much of a writer. It's just something I do for my own personal amusement and occasionally I crawl out from under my rock and share it with others. All typos and grammatical errors are my own doing so I apologize in advance for those. The Walking Dead verse belongs to its creators. I'm just playing with the characters for a while.
> 
> Hopefully this will be a little something that some of you will have fun reading. I definitely enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Thanks! :)

They didn't lose the farm the night the barn burned. 

They came together in the dark while the moans of the walkers grew louder and closer and decided to make a stand. They climbed into their cars and trucks and bike and took on the horde of the undead, one decomposing body at a time. The night was filled with sounds of gunfire as everyone fought tooth and nail for their survival. 

They held them off from the house and slowly, the walkers' numbers thinned. 

Rick led them all on towards the dawn.

When morning came, they were nearly dead on their feet themselves with exhaustion, but there were no more walkers shuffling through the fields or creeping towards them from the woods. 

It had taken days to clean up the corpses. No one kept a firm count but the number of bodies was well into the hundreds. The smell of burnt, rotten flesh clung to everyone and everything.

Graves were dug for Shane, Jimmy, and Patricia. They mourned as best as they could but everyone was numb with shock and the reminder that the end of the world was inescapable, no matter where they set up camp. Their ammo was nonexistent, the barn was burnt to the ground, and the fences (not to mention their spirits) were in ruins. 

Shane's betrayal of Rick cut the man deep and he was distant and angry but more determined than ever to protect his group at all costs.

They remained on Hershel's farm. And slowly, achingly slowly, they rebuilt. They knew that more mistakes would be made, that more threats would rise to try and snuff them out but they decided to stay and try to make a life on the farm. 

And so they started with baby steps.

 

 

Repairing the fences was the first chore on their list. They had most of what they needed on hand but Maggie, Glenn, and Daryl made a run to a co-op a few towns over and filled up their vehicles with extra boards, rolls of wire, nails, and posts. 

They all eyeballed a large abandoned barn in the middle of an empty field a few miles from the farm on their way back.

Tearing that down and rebuilding it on their place would be a project for later. One hell of a project but it needed to be done.

Once the fences were secured and built up stronger than ever, and after much planning and many scouting trips, they had built an extension onto the back of the farmhouse. Everyone was settling in for the long haul at the farm and they were all in desperate need of a little extra elbow room. They decided on building two more bedrooms, another large storage room, and separate, to the back of the house, a greenhouse for seedlings. 

Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Daryl, T-Dog, Andrea, and even Carl had spent several days hauling home lumber, doors, windows, hardware, tools, and all manner of other pieces and parts deemed useful from the abandoned houses and cabins near the farm. One place even had a few solar panels on the roof that they had disassembled and brought back to put to use.

Daryl and Glenn went out on their own one day when construction on the new additions was coming a close. Winter was almost on them and they needed a few more supplies to tide them over for the cold months ahead. They stopped at a cabin about ten miles from the farm and after killing two Walkers in the front yard they'd broken into the tightly sealed house. 

One emaciated walker greeted them from the floor with a ragged hiss. It was an old one, likely one of the first to turn, and had mostly decomposed so it was little threat. Daryl put an arrow through its left eye.

They drug out a couple of old cedar trunks for storage, some blankets and heavy quilts, several boxes full of canned and dried goods from the pantry, and Glenn was busy dumping the contents of the closets and dressers into trash bags to take with them. Everyone needed more clothing and they were especially low on any sort of winter gear. He had just drug the last bag to the front door when he heard Daryl curse loudly. 

"Daryl? _Daryl!_ " Glenn unsheathed his machete and crashed though the house. He nearly ran into the older man when he rounded the corner into the back bedroom. Glenn's jaw dropped when he saw what Daryl was staring at.

Daryl had found a small set of keys in a nightstand drawer while hunting around for batteries. The keys to a gun safe. 

It was a fucking huge gun safe and it was packed tight with a variety of weapons. 

The safe held Remington and Mossberg shotguns, Russian AK-47s, Bushmaster AR-15s, Colt M4 Carbines, M4Al assault rifles, a Ruger .357 Magnum bolt action rifle, a couple of old muzzleloaders, and over a dozen handguns and pistols in a wide variety of calibers. Rugers, Berettas, Glocks, Smith & Wesson, and some gorgeous old Colts. There were even a handful of WWII bayonets, three massive hunting knives with stag antler handles, and a couple of heavy duty police batons. 

Glenn's mouth was still hanging open and he was trying very hard not to cry when Daryl looked over his shoulder and grinned at him. 

"There's a locked closet over there that I ain't opened yet." 

The closet was jammed full of ammo, cleaning supplies, holsters, slings, scopes, a couple of honest to God fucking _silencers_ , several boxes of a few dozen MREs, and boxes and boxes of spare gun parts. Glenn lost count at about eight thousand rounds of ammo and they carried several more boxes and old green military ammunition cans full of rounds out to the truck after that. 

"Christmas came early." Daryl was beaming and Glenn's knees went weak when the older man grabbed him and kissed him hard, backing him up against the wall beside the safe and making him drop the box of .38 bullets he'd been carrying. 

That had been around the time when Glenn lost count of the ammunition. 

Their little party at the CDC had nothing on the celebration that was thrown that night when they got home with the truck bed crammed with their new arsenal. 

Strapped down on top of it all was a massive tom turkey that Daryl had shot on the way home from the passenger seat with one of the Colt's that he'd claimed for himself. Glenn had damn near pissed himself and just barely kept from wrecking the truck when the gun went off. Daryl was out and bolting across the field for the turkey before Glenn even fully comprehended what happened. The big oaf looked like a freaking kid though so Glenn didn't get too pissed off at him.

Daryl butchered the turkey and everyone else helped prepare a fucking feast with some canned goods, a few of the MREs, and Beth and Carol made a couple of cobblers from some of the last canned peaches. 

It was the best day they'd had in a long time. 

A little after midnight, with full bellies and ever so slightly drunk on some Jack Daniels that Daryl had found in the dresser drawer with the gun safe keys, Glenn and Daryl stumbled up the stairs to the small storage room near the attic that they'd claimed as their own a few weeks ago. Sloppy kisses were traded and fumbling hands groped at one another but they passed out, legs and arms tangled together in the bedding, before they could get any further than grinding against each other through their jeans.

The next morning (closer to noon actually, as Daryl would tease him about later), Glenn woke up with a groan when he rolled out of the empty bed (which was really just a mattress on the floor so he didn't fall far) and found himself alone in the room. 

Well, alone except for the pair of turkey feet drying by the tiny window. And the long turkey beard and tail feather fan that were both tacked onto the wall by the window. 

Upon closer inspection he realized that Daryl had positioned the turkey's claws so that the middle one was pointing straight out while the others were curled inward. 

The bird was flipping the bird. 

 

 

 

Daryl found Frank a few days after he and Glenn stumbled across the cabin with the gun safe. He had been hunting in the swamps after a surprising late November heat wave and rain storm when he heard a high-pitched scream echo through the trees. As he ran towards the sound, his crossbow loaded and ready to fire, the groans of walkers and the sounds of a struggle became louder. 

He came around a bend in the creek and saw the horse.

The warm spell had thawed the swamp enough to make the mud thick again. The black and white stallion was stuck in the mud by his back legs and was frantically struggling to free itself. The four walkers behind it were stuck too, but they were slowly pulling free and dragging their way towards the animal. Ragged fingernails tangled in the horse's tail and pulled. The horse tossed its head wildly and emitted another shrill cry. 

Daryl crept up silently, careful to not sink into the mud himself, and took the walkers out one by one with his knife. 

The horse had worn itself out and its muddy sides heaved from the exertion. Its ribs were showing and it had several smears of blood on its black and white hide. Didn't look like anything too serious though, just briar scrapes. 

Daryl clucked his tongue and reached out to gently stroke the animal's neck. He rifled around in his pack for a minute before pulling out a nearly crushed peppermint. He crooned softly as he unwrapped it and offered it to the horse. 

"C'mon old boy, let's get ya out of there." 

The horse's nostrils flared and he reached toward's Daryl's hand, snatching up the peppermint quickly and watching him warily as he crunched on it.

It took him over an hour to dig down enough that the horse could pull itself free. He half expected the animal to take off and never be seen again as soon as he got his legs out of the mud but the horse was too exhausted to do much more than stand and climb up onto the bank. His pale eyes never left Daryl as the man pulled himself up out of the mud and moved towards the horse.

Daryl had wished for a rope to attach to the remains of the leather harness on the stud's face but in the end it wasn't necessary. The horse stayed close and followed him home like an overgrown dog at his heels. 

He named the horse Frank on account of his blue eyes. 

Daryl's momma had been quite a Sinatra fan.

 

Hershel had been delighted to put his skills to use on the sort of patient that a veterinarian was actually trained to work on again. He declared the horse to be in good health aside from being underweight and exhausted. 

Daryl led the stud into the stable and put it into one of the empty stalls. He filled up a water bucket from one of the well pumps and put it and a small block of hay into the stall with Frank. The horse nickered tiredly but dug into the sweet-smelling alfalfa, yanking out one mouthful after the next and chewing contentedly. Daryl rested his elbows on the top wood panel of the stall's half wall and watched the horse eat. 

"I bet your momma don't know yer out here, does she?"

A sheriff's deputy hat followed by Carl's wide eyes popped up from behind the door of one of the empty stalls. 

"No, sir."

"You ain't gotta do the 'sir' b.s. with me, alright? I see right through all that anyway." 

"Yes s- er, Daryl." 

"Atta boy. Did ya see our new addition?" 

Carl slowly made his way to where Daryl was leaning against the half wall of the stall. He climbed up a couple of panels and rested his elbows on the top board like the older man and looked in at the horse. "He's pretty cool looking. Those eyes are kinda creepy though."

Daryl chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, s'like they can see right though you when they are pale like that. You ever ride before?"

"No. Well, I rode a pony one time when I was real little. I fell off though and Mom freaked." 

"I bet she did. Tell ya what, if you get her okay, and I'm gonna be there to hear that okay from her with my own ears, I'll teach ya how to ride if ya wanna learn." 

Carl's eyes lit up and he had a big grin on his face when he looked over at Daryl. "Really? That would be so cool! Can I ride Frank?"

"Let's get him fattened up a bit and then we'll see. I need to ride him first, make sure he's not a bucker or anything. He ain't that big though so he'd be a good one for you to learn on. Probably got some mustang in him, being all lean and wiry like that."

Both Daryl and Carl flinched at the high-pitched shout of "CARL!" that suddenly came from the house. The boy grinned sheepishly.

"I'll ask Mom if it's okay but I think I'll wait a while first before I do. Thanks, Daryl! Bye!"

Daryl snorted and watched Carl run out of the stable and back towards the house. He looked over at Frank and chuckled softly. "Smart kid." 

 

 

 

Thanks to Carol, who had taken on the role of time-keeper and kept track of the days on the old calendar in the hall (she'd also drawn up one for the upcoming new year, complete with holidays and everyone's birthdays) they had been counting down to Christmas when a minor disaster struck a few days before the 25th. 

A passing herd of about fifty walkers had collapsed a section of a fence where part of their herd of cattle had been grazing and torn apart thirteen cows and calves before the alarm was sounded. It was a hell of a blow to their already small herd. 

The remaining cattle plowed through another fence and scattered across the acreage. Most of the walkers stuck with the carcasses, gorging themselves until several split their stomachs wide open (which didn't stop them from eating more), but a few wandered off after the livestock.

Everyone split up into groups and went to work.

Later that afternoon while rounding up a few of the remaining stragglers, both walker and cattle alike, Daryl, Maggie, and Rick found the herd bull. At easily 2500 pounds he was a beast with a bad attitude on the best of days according to Maggie. And now he was frightened and angry and more than willing to take his frustrations out on anyone that dared get close enough. 

They managed to get him within fifty feet of the gate of the repaired fence when a walker stumbled out from behind a cluster of old hay bales. Maggie took it out with a bayonet easily enough but the disturbance and the smell of rotten gore set the bull off. Daryl, momentarily distracted by the walker, caught the full force of one of the bull's flying hooves in his upper thigh. 

He lost his footing and hit the ground hard on his shoulder but managed to roll out of the way before the animal could trample him in its mad dash for the open gate. 

Daryl walked it off while cursing a blue streak but he was in a foul mood the rest of the day, snapping at anyone that got in his way and taking out the remaining handful of walkers they found in the fields on his own with a vicious wrath. It was several hours after sundown now though and most of the fire had burned out of him. It was replaced by aching muscles and he moved rather stiffly as he and Glenn drug themselves upstairs. 

"I got you a present. Sit down and take your pants off."

Daryl laughed tiredly but did as he was told. "Only if you promise to still respect me in the mornin'. And buy me breakfast."

Glenn waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe. But only if you are a very good boy and behave yourself." He bent down and untied Daryl's boots before pulling them off and setting them next to his crossbow by the door. 

Daryl hissed when he lifted his hips to let Glenn help him pull his jeans and underwear off. Glenn bit his lip and winced in sympathy when he saw the bruise. It was already dark blue and purple and started about six inches above Daryl's knee and spread up past the crease of his thigh almost to his hip. 

"Wow, he nearly took out your goodies."

"Don't I fucking know it. Goddamn overgrown steak is lucky he's still got his balls otherwise I'd a' had him for dinner." 

"Guess he'll live to procreate another day. Hey, I know you aren't going to like this but Hershel said it'll really help." Glenn pulled a small tube of arnica gel that Hershel had given him out of his pocket. He squeezed some onto his hand started gently rubbing it into Daryl's discolored and swollen leg. Daryl was silent for the most part but Glenn felt the muscles in his thigh tense up each time he pressed a little too hard. 

He worked on Daryl's shoulder next. It was red and swollen but not nearly as bruised as his leg.

"Lean up a bit?" Glenn reached up and tucked a pillow behind Daryl and then unwrapped a towel from around a couple of plastic bags full of some of the snow that had fallen that evening. He set them aside and gently lifted Daryl's leg up, stuffing several pillows under it to elevate it and help the swelling go down. Daryl chewed on his thumbnail and let himself be maneuvered around. 

"You ain't gotta baby me you know. Survived a hell of a lot worse than this before."

"Humor me okay? What else am I gonna do tonight anyway, play the new Call of Duty? Deliver pizzas?" He propped one bag of the icy slush on Daryl's shoulder and then the other over his thigh. 

Daryl grumbled at the cold and leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. "Shit a pizza sounds pretty good right now."

"You got a case of the munchies tonight, babe? Steak, pizza, what's next?"

"My boot up your ass if you don't quite hovering. Jesus, just get in bed already." 

"And now you are grumpy. So food cravings and mood swings? This seems familiar…oh my God, you're pregnant aren't you?" 

Daryl groaned and flung an arm over his eyes. "Shut it, kid. Really ain't in the mood." 

Goosebumps from the ice broke out over his bare skin and Glenn snagged a fleece blanket and a thick quilt to throw over him. 

Glenn grinned and reach for his pack before settling down next to the older man . "I was saving this to give to you on Christmas but I think you could use a little pick me up tonight. Just don't tell Santa I gave you your present early, 'kay?"

He handed Daryl a brown paper sack that was surprisingly heavy. Daryl narrowed his eyes at Glenn but accepted the bag and opened it carefully. 

"What the fuck."

In the bag were two unopened bottles of Southern Comfort, a big bar of dark chocolate (that had melted and re-hardened a few times but hell, it was still chocolate), a slightly squished carton of Marlboros, and a container of Barnett lube wax for the crossbow. 

Daryl's expression was unreadable and Glenn felt his stomach flip.

"It's not much but I thought it might be some stuff you'd like. Not exactly easy to shop for anyone right now and you definitely are the hardest person probably in the world ever to shop for in the first place so-mmph!" The ice pack on Daryl's shoulder slid over onto Glenn as he grabbed the back of Glenn's neck and pulled him in for a hard kiss. 

It was long moments before they parted and when they did Daryl had one of his rare, genuine smiles tugging at the corners of his chapped lips. 

"You are fucking ridiculous. And this is the best damn Christmas I've ever had."

Glenn grinned and settled the ice pack back on Daryl's shoulder. He curled up against the other man's side and wrapped an arm around him. "Me too." 

Daryl pulled the lid off of one of the bottles and took a long swallow. He groaned rather obscenely and passed the bottle down to Glenn who took a far more modest sip. After another drink, Daryl unwrapped the chocolate bar and broke off a few pieces. He handed several to Glenn before settling back to nibble and gnaw on one for himself. 

"I take back what I said before. You can baby me anytime you want to, kid." 

 

 

 

Against all odds, they survived the winter. 

They rationed their meager stores carefully and miraculously they held. Daryl hunted practically every day and he and Glenn and a few of the others went out scavenging through abandoned houses and stores when their supplies began to run dangerously low.

They were all a great deal leaner than they had been a few months ago with the exception of Lori who was still far too thin considering how far along she was. Rick had been giving her the silent treatment more and more as her belly grew and while the others were no replacement for her husband, they were there for her, each in their own ways. 

God knows where they got them from but nearly everyone came down with horrible colds and possibly the flu in a few cases (Andrea, Daryl, and Glenn) for a couple of weeks in February. Carol and T-Dog stayed well but nearly ran themselves to exhaustion taking care of the others. 

Glenn almost kicked Daryl out of their room during the fifth day of both of them being sick. The only thing that saved him from actually doing it was his complete lack of energy and the awful headache that was keeping him in bed. 

"You are a horrible, horrible patient, Daryl Dixon. Just go to sleep and wake up when you are all better." 

Daryl grumbled from the other side of the room where he sat cross-legged on the floor. He was wrapped up tight in the colorful old horse blanket he had cut a hole in and taken to wearing as a poncho but Glenn could still tell that he was shivering. 

He was hunched over and working on fletching a few single shot arrows with turkey feathers. His eyes were swollen and red and he swayed every few minutes. Stubborn bastard was refusing to get in bed.

After Carol caught him earlier that day trying to go out and hunt for the third time she really chewed him out. Rightfully so, in Glenn opinion, and he silently applauded her from the sidelines. Daryl was slightly more subdued afterwards but was still a right asshole. 

"If you stop being such a dick n' give me one of my _fuckin'_ cigarettes then maybe I'll think about it." He croaked from his sore throat.

"You know what? Go for it. Don't see why you want them when you can't breathe anyway but what do I care."

Daryl had made the carton Glenn gave him for Christmas last and there were still nine full packs left. He rarely smoked, even before the world ended, but when he got an urge for it God forbid you stand in his way. Glenn didn't even know why he was trying. Fuck him if he knew what was going on in his stuffed full head right now. Honestly, he was a pretty awful patient himself and most likely he did it just to get a rise out of the other man. It was something to do and pass the time. 

Daryl caught the pack Glenn flung at him from under his pillow. He lit one up and took a deep drag. There was a rattle in his chest when he exhaled the lungful of smoke and he groaned as a bad coughing fit shook his weakened muscles.

A tiny voice in Glenn's head wanted to whip out the good old 'I told you so' but he was too damn tired and felt too bad for the other man and was just really sick and tired of being sick and tired. So instead he buried his head under his pillow and tried to smother himself.

The thin mattress dipped behind him and a warm weight settled against his back. Daryl's hot forehead came to rest against his spine and he heard the other man heave a sigh followed by another round of coughing and wet sniffling.

Glenn sneezed. With a groan, he jammed a handkerchief against his own runny nose. "We are so gross."

A little while later, Carol brought them up a tray with two bowls of vegetable soup, some bottles of water, and a couple precious Advil tablets. Wise to her unruly patients' ways now, she stayed to make sure they actually ate and drank instead of ignoring it (Glenn) or making it disappear by flinging it out of the window (Daryl). Both men were exhausted and found themselves silently grateful for her soothing presence tonight as she murmured soft nonsense at them and laid cool washcloths on their foreheads. 

Glenn decided that she must be an angel. He told her as much and she smiled brightly and laughed, stroking his hair off of his forehead. Daryl finally passed out before he could have much real thought on the angel matter but Glenn was sure he would agree.

And so the winter dragged on. There was a mountain of work for them all to do once they got their feet under them after the illness. Animals that needed tending, a leak in the roof that needed fixed, fuel to collect, and supplies to gather. But they were alive and they were learning how to make this all work. 

 

 

 

Glenn gasped when Daryl shoved his hips up against him so hard that it made his toes curl. 

"Oh shit. _Shit._ Daryl, please." He bit down hard on Daryl's shoulder and the older man hissed, fingers digging into the flesh of Glenn's ass and bruising pale skin. 

Glenn was straddling Daryl's hips and rocking down against them. He cried out and clenched down on the thick cock filling him when it hit his prostate. 

Daryl growled and buried his face in Glenn's neck, licking and sucking at his sweat-slick skin. He thrust up to meet Glenn one more time before getting his legs under him and tipping Glenn onto his back. The younger man whined when the motion caused Daryl to slip out of him. Their fingers tangled, both reaching for Daryl's cock, and Glenn laughed, leaning up to steal a kiss that was more teeth than lips. He huffed a hot breath against Daryl's open mouth when his cock filled him again. 

Daryl rocked his hips in a maddening pace, alternating between long, slow grinds and deep, fast thrusts. Glenn moved against him, trying to find the right angle and he damn near shouted when Daryl hit his sweet spot again. And again. He flung his arms around Daryl's neck and scratched his nails against his shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to as he felt like the intensity of it all was about to strangle him. 

Breathy little pants of "oh fuck" and "Daryl" were breathed into his ear and Daryl bared his teeth in a grin. Bracing himself on one hand by Glenn's shoulder, he licked a wet stripe across the other and reached down between them to fist Glenn's dick. He stroked once, twice, and rubbed his thumb hard against the slit, grinding his hips down at the same time and that was it. Glenn sobbed, eyes squeezing shut tight and spine arching as he came. 

Daryl snarled at the vice-like grip suddenly around his cock and he sucked a red mark into Glenn's neck. Teeth worried the skin and his tongue smoothed out the hurt. 

Glenn, glassy-eyed and still trembling, smirked up at Daryl and reached out to pinch one of his sensitive nipples. Daryl sucked in a breath and thrust particularly hard in reaction to the sensation. Glenn gasped and tossed his head back against the pillows. 

Hand still on Daryl's chest, he rolled the tight bud of flesh between his finger and thumb. He clenched down on Daryl's dick again and squeezed his sides with his legs.

"Come on, babe. S'your turn." 

With a groan that sounded like it was punched out of him, Daryl came. Glenn moaned as the hot pulse of it filled him and he pushed his forehead against Daryl's, breathing in the older man's ragged panting breaths. 

They gasped and shuddered against each other in the aftershocks, heartbeats racing and slick skin sliding against slick skin. Daryl's arm finally gave out and he rolled them over onto their sides. He cleaned them off with a dirty t-shirt and tossed it to the other side of the room. Daryl's slowly softening cock was still nestled tight inside of Glenn and the younger man wriggled closer, wrapping a leg over Daryl's. 

"That was ridiculous. My fucking ears are ringing, Daryl. Jesus." 

Daryl hmm'ed and scratched his fingers gently through Glenn's tangled hair. "Was pretty damn nice."

The air was hot and humid and uncomfortable in their little room but they stayed wrapped around each other. Noses bumping and jokes shared and fingers caressing heated skin. No place else they'd rather be.

 

 

 

"Don't wrap the lead rope around yer fingers, kid. Hold it like this." He held up his own hand. The rope was held in a loose loop in the palm of his hand. He made a fist around it.

Glenn nodded and copied Daryl's example, unravelling the rope from around his fingers and clenching it in his fist. "Uh, okay. But how come?"

"If the horse ever gets spooked and runs off, it'll take yer fingers with it if the rope's wrapped around them like that. A guy I knew when I was a kid lost his three middle fingers that way. Had the rope all coiled around them while he was leading a young stud to the barn and a tractor backfired. Horse took off, rope tightened up, _pop!_ , there went his fingers."

Glenn winced. "Yikes."

"Yeah."

They made their way back to the stables with Nervous Nellie and Frank flanking them. The horses' heads were low and their ears were relaxed as they walked. They were tired after spending the day plowing the last field the group planned to sow.

Andrea waved to them from the top of Dale's old RV as they passed by. The temperamental vehicle still ran but no one trusted it as far as they could throw it anymore. It was a useless relic, kept around for sentimentality's sake, but it still made for a good lookout post.

It was the end of March and the the weather had yet to reach the harsh temperatures of Georgian summertime. The nights were still cool and it had been raining every few days. Everything was thick and lush and green.

Under Hershel's guidance, they had readied the fields for planting crops. They'd done it the old fashioned way, wary of attracting walkers with the sound of the tractor running for too long and not wanting to use up the fuel. So they hooked up a plow to the horses and gone to it. Daryl, Maggie, and Rick took turns running the plow (all had former experience of some sort with literal horse power and farming) and most everyone else had gone along behind and gathered up rocks into buckets and hauled them out of the field. Then they went along and sowed oats, corn, wheat, and barley. 

The hay was coming on strong and the greenhouse they had constructed last fall held many precious seedlings that would soon fill the gardens closer to the farmhouse. Squash, zucchini, tomatoes, green beans, sugar beets, carrots, potatoes, onions and more. They had amassed quite a seed bank over the winter after picking through many local farms and supply stores. 

Blossoms were coming out on the peach and apple trees in the orchard. Everyone was keeping their fingers crossed that there wouldn't be any late frosts. 

Soon they would start on tearing down and rebuilding the barn that Daryl, Maggie, and Glenn had found back in the fall. They were planning to build a large, high-fenced paddock connected to the barn as a way to keep the cattle up at night. 

All in all, they were pretty damn busy. 

Lori had at least a few weeks left to go and she looked like she was about to pop. Hershel and Carol finally got her mostly contained to the house last week and were working on getting her to consider staying in bed for the remaining days. They had yet to succeed in that endeavor. 

Rick, having pushed away and distanced himself over the winter, was slowly finding his way back to his wife. They weren't alright by any means but things were beginning to seem less strained between them. It was better than nothing. 

They removed the harnesses from the horses and wiped them down before putting them in their stalls for the night. Frank turned out to be one of the gentlest horses that Daryl had ever worked with. He could be hard-headed and had a bit of a temper, being a stallion and all, but most of the time he was well-behaved and eager to please. He and Nellie had made a good pair for working the plow.

Daryl and Glenn walked back to the house, steps unconsciously synchronized and shoulders bumping every few paces.

"Want a haircut?" 

Daryl snorted and glanced over at Glenn, eyeballing his own too-long black hair. "Looks like you need one more 'n I do." 

"Well I'll do you then you can do me, how about that?" He smirked at his own double entendre and Daryl rolled his eyes. 

After gathering up the needed supplies (which involved Glenn sneaking into Maggie's room to 'borrow' the good scissors he knew she kept hidden away in there) Glenn had Daryl take off his shirt and sit on the bottom porch step. Glen sat down behind him on the next step and went to work. 

Gentle fingers combed through tangles in the long dark hair and he noticed Daryl's shoulder's drooping a bit as he relaxed.

"Your hair's gotten darker." He leaned closer and Daryl could feel warm breath against his scalp. "And wow, you've got quite a few grey hairs coming in."

Daryl slapped at Glenn's shin. "It's keeping your ass outta trouble all the time that's makin' me get 'em."

"Hey they're not a bad thing! Makes you look…distinguished." 

The glare Daryl shot him would have made Glenn keel over instantly less than a year ago. Now he just leaned forward and pecked a quick kiss to the demons tattooed on the older man's freckled shoulder. 

"How short do you want it?"

Daryl gave a half shrug. "Not too short. Just so it's not in my eyes or nothing'."

Using a spray bottle he also swiped from Maggie's room, Glenn got Daryl's hair damp and started carefully snipping the the ends off. He cut off some of the length that weighed Daryl's hair down onto his neck. When he'd cut all he could reach Glenn got up and moved to stand in front of Daryl. He tipped the man's head back to get a better look and started removing some of the length from the hair hanging down in his eyes.

Daryl kept his eyes closed until the sound of snip, snip, snip ceased and Glenn's fingers gently brushed against his cheek, swiping away a few stray strands. 

"All done. Wanna see?" Glenn held up a small mirror. Daryl leaned forward and inspected the job. 

"Not bad. Thanks." 

Glenn beamed and reached down to pat Daryl's knee. "My turn! Hop up."

The older man stood and switched places with Glenn. He picked up the scissors in one hand and chewed on the edge of his thumbnail on the other hand while watching Glenn pull his shirt off and sit down.

"Sure you want me to hack at yer hair? Only ever cut my own and Sally's."

"Who's Sally?"

Daryl flushed. "An old mutt I had. She looked like a ratty old mop if you didn't keep her coat trimmed short."

Glenn grinned up at him. "I trust you."

Glenn nearly went to sleep while Daryl stroked and gently tugged on his hair with thick, callused fingers. Daryl cut his hair to the same length he remembered it being when they first met. He worked slowly and carefully and stopped periodically to check and make sure the lengths were even.

After a while, the sound of scissors snipping stopped and he felt a thumb rub at a spot just past his hairline above his temple. "What's this from?" 

It was a thin white line, a little over an inch long scarring his scalp. Glenn bumped his fingers against Daryl's as he reached up to touch it. He chuckled softly. 

"My big sister and I got in a fight over what cartoon to watch one Saturday morning when we were kids. Then she grabbed the remote and flung it at me as hard as she could. I fell off the couch trying to dodge it and whacked my head on the edge of the coffee table. It bled like crazy and I had to go to the ER to get stitches.

"I don't think she every forgave herself for that. She got to be super protective of me and growing up, I knew that she always had my back, no matter what." His voiced cracked and Daryl tangled their fingers together, squeezing Glenn's hand tight in his own.

"God I miss them." Daryl sat down next to the younger man and pressed close against his side. Glenn leaned against him and heaved a shuddering sigh, willing the tears away. 

"I think they would have really liked you. Once big sis' decided you weren't going to murder me or anything." 

Daryl smiled and kissed his temple and then rested their heads together. 

They sat like that for a long time. 

 

 

 

The barn was a massive project. It took them over a week to get the monstrous thing disassembled and hauled back to the farm. Glenn started wondering if they really needed such a big building.

It was an old barn, built back in the 20s at least, and the main foundation beams were enormous. Old, whole tree trunks that were heavy as lead, hard as iron, and stuck fast in the ground. 

They pulled out the handful of windows first, then the doors, followed by the roof, the outside walls in sections, and then the parts of the two half lofts. After all of that material had been hauled home all that remained was getting the ten main support beams. 

It had turned into an excavation site trying to get those beasts out. They dug down four feet around all of them and the bottoms of the beams were still buried deep in the earth. 

Daryl's patience was shot at that point and he flung his shovel down with a curse and went after them with an axe. 

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog kept their distant for a few minutes, wary of getting anywhere near that flying axe or the temper behind it before going to work on one of the other beams. 

In the end, Daryl broke the axe before he was barely a third of the way through one beam. 

They finally gave in and decided to cut down a few trees on the farm, close to where they would be rebuilding the barn. 

Daryl was in an awful mood for several days after that debacle. 

But they did finally get their new barn up. It was even bigger than the old one and they built two large, high-fenced corrals up against it for keeping the livestock up at night. 

Daryl carved his and Glenn's initials into the bark of one of the trees they cut down and used as a main support beam. It was a while before Glenn noticed it and he enjoyed seeing the tips of Daryl's ears turn red when he asked him about it. 

 

 

 

The summer heat was beginning to get to them all. There was still an enormous amount of work to be done but very little was getting accomplished. Everyone was snippy and miserable and had taken to just trying to stay out of each other's way for the most part. 

The old thermometer hanging up outside of the kitchen window topped out at 107 yesterday and today seemed just as bad. Goddamn scorcher. 

Daryl and Glenn's upstairs room had turned into an oven, even well into the night. So with a little creative knot-tying under the shade of a monster oak tree one afternoon they made themselves a hammock and hung it up on the front porch. 

It was awkward and sensitive bits of one another's anatomy had been injured on a few occasions but the faint breeze and fresh air was more than worth it.

The early afternoon, hottest part of the day, had unofficially become siesta time during the last few days. Everyone hunted out the coolest, quietest spot they could find and would read or sleep away the most brutal hours of the hot day. 

Today even that didn't seem to help. With a hive mind mentality, most of the group started making their way out to the little duck pond behind the house. 

The pond butted up against a row of elm and willow trees which shaded nearly half of the water. Rick, Lori, and baby Judith sat under the shade of one of the willows, keeping watch while everyone else stripped down to their underwear and dove into the warm but still refreshing water. 

Daryl's scars stood out stark white against his overheated skin. He considered leaving his shirt on but it was just so goddamn hot. He was one of the last ones still on the bank and he kept his gaze on his feet as he shucked his boots, socks, jeans, and thin t-shirt into a pile in the thick grass. Living in such close quarters for nearly a year now, there was little anyone hadn't seen of each other but he still felt his face flush at being so exposed. He quickly slipped into the water. 

Daryl was immediately distracted from his self-conscious thoughts by a surprise tackle from a sopping wet Glenn. The move sent them both crashing into the water and Daryl wrestled with the younger man to gain the upper hand. His fingers dug into Glenn's ribs, poking and prodding until tears of laughter and agony filled his eyes and he finally squirmed free of Daryl's hold. 

The others were laughing and soon joined in the rough-housing. Daryl noticed Carl hanging off to the side and staring at Beth on several occasions and after the third or fourth time he snuck up behind the boy and grabbed him. He hauled the sputtering and flailing teenager out to the deeper part of the pond. It was like trying to hold onto an eel. 

"CannonCarlBall!" Daryl announced.

Carl went flying through the air and crashed into the water with an almighty splash. 

The girls ganged up on Glenn and T-Dog and were waging war with monstrous waves and the occasionally thrown glob of mud. Daryl waited for Carl to join him and with a shushing motion at him Daryl slipped around to one bank with a pile of rocks sticking out of the water amidst a small cattail forest. He hunted around for a few minutes before finding what he was looking for. Passing it off to Carl he gave the boy a conspiratory smirk and swam back to Glenn and T-Dog to help them out in their water war with the girls.

Beth shrieked when an enormous bullfrog was shoved in her face. She kicked and splashed to get away and collided with Andrea and Carol, knocking them off of their feet. Maggie laughed and swam out of the way while Carl chased her sister around with the huge amphibian. The frog didn't take too kindly to this treatment and soon escaped but they were all laughing too hard to notice. 

Glenn grinned as Daryl swam towards him. He reached out and flung his arms around the older man's neck and pulling him in for a quick kiss while the others were distracted. When they broke apart, Glenn leaned up and nibbled on Daryl's earlobe before whispering into it.

"We're going come back down here tonight and I'm gonna fuck you on that bank over there. Get you good and slick with my tongue and then spread you out under the moonlight and take you until you can't remember anything but my name. Make you come again and again until you just can't anymore and then once more after that. You're gonna feel me inside you for _days._ "

There were suddenly catcalls and T-Dog's teasing cry of 'Get a room!' from behind them. Glenn shot up a middle finger and kissed Daryl again. The older man's legs felt like jelly and he damn near trembled against Glenn's hot skin. 

They broke apart when Maggie's volleyball bounced off Glenn's head. He shouted and scrambled after her, dunking her under the water when he finally caught her. 

The splashing and mud-flinging began anew after that.

It was a while before Daryl moved out of the waist deep water again. Carol teased him about his flushed face and he scowled and grumbled at her. She laughed and splashed him before quickly swimming out of the way of a retaliation.

All in all, despite the heat, it was a pretty nice afternoon.

And that night, Glenn was true to his word. In the aftermath of several absolutely mind-ending orgasms brought about by Glenn's tongue and fingers and cock, Daryl lay flat on his back in the soft grass, staring up at the clear night sky. It was still hot but the sweat cooling on his naked skin and the faint breeze coming off the pond made it bearable. 

His crossbow was within arm's reach and Glenn's rifle was close by too. They both kept their boots on.

Glenn was laying right next to him, arms crossed behind and pillowing his head, and looking entirely too pleased with himself. Daryl felt too damn good to give him much grief about that. 

And hell, if he was being perfectly honest, he was pretty sure that he couldn't even move just yet anyway. 

 

 

 

 

Glenn watched him clip away the excess hoof with the large nippers. Daryl moved easily, his actions deliberate and confident. This was something he'd done many, many times before. 

"Where'd you learn about all this?"

The older man glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his attention to the task at hand. He set the hoof he'd just finished down and moved up to the front hoof on the same side. 

"After our house burned up, daddy moved me 'n Merle back out the to old family homestead way out in the boonies. Close to fifty acres and our nearest neighbor was old Jerry about a mile up the road. He was a farrier but he didn't put shoes on 'em. Barefoot trimming he called it. He cut their hooves so they'd grow tough and hard like wild horses' do."

"I worked for him every now and then when I was a teenager and he showed me how to trim like he did." Rough, calloused hands flipped the rasp with practiced ease and he ran it back and forth around the outer wall of the hoof held between his knees. "Always was a good way to make an extra buck."

Nervous Nellie was nearly asleep by the time he finished.

"There ya go, darlin'. Enjoyed your pedicure, huh?" He patted her withers and the old mare heaved a relaxed sigh. Glenn smiled. 

"I'm glad to see that you two finally made up."

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. "Figured we outta since she'll be foaling Frank's colt soon."

Glenn's eyes widened. "She's pregnant? How do you know?"

"How could you not know? She's big as a house."

Glenn rolled his eyes. "She's a horse, Daryl. They all look as big as houses."

 

 

 

 

The apple and peach trees were heavy with fruit. Despite the hot, dry summer they had gotten just enough rain at just the right time and were producing copious quantities of sweet fruit. It was a very welcome sight.

Most of the group were in the orchards gathering apples and peaches into large baskets. It was still brutally hot and they were soaked with sweat. There were five or six gallon jugs of water sitting around as reminders to stay hydrated. 

Glenn and Carl were high up in the trees and tossing apples down to the others waiting with baskets below. Daryl dodged a falling rotten apple (damn brat was aiming for his head again) and movement to his right caught his attention.

Honey bees. There were dozens of them (as well as yellow jackets and wasps but those didn't interest Daryl) buzzing around the few rotten apples scattering the ground. 

Daryl caught Rick's eye and nodded down at the insects. Rick stared down at the bees for a few moments and opened his mouth to speak but cut himself off. Daryl smirked when realization finally dawned on the other man's face.

"Looks like we need to put a hunting party together, Rick."

Daryl, Rick, Glenn, and Carl all broke off from the others and set out for the woods. Daryl led the way, moving quietly and carefully, his eyes narrowed as he searched for their quarry.

It had taken almost two hours but then Glenn finally spotted what they were looking for. 

They all stood before a large oak tree that had a big hole in the middle of the trunk about fifteen feet up. Honey bees were buzzing in and out of it nonstop. 

Daryl started planning. 

The next day he, Rick, and Glenn drove the old RV (it took an hour to get the damn thing started) back out to the oak tree and parked it broadside next to the trunk. They quickly retreated about a dozen yards into the woods so as to not disturb the bees further while they finished their preparations. 

Glenn helped Daryl suit up with several thick denim and flannel shirts buttoned all the way up, his leather vest, thick leather work gloves, and a motorcycle helmet (which Maggie had apparently stolen from an ex of hers). Then they wrapped an ugly as sin, thick green scarf around his neck. They duct taped the collar of the outermost shirt to the scarf and the helmet, the shirt wrist cuffs to the gloves, and his pant legs to the tops of his boots. 

"Little overkill, don'tcha think? I'm gonna melt in here."

Glenn rolled his eyes and ripped off another strip of duct tape. He reached up threatened to put it on Daryl's mouth. 

The previous night they had put together a makeshift bee smoker using a couple of metal coffee cans, a funnel, and the remains of an antique bellows they dug up near an old kiln in the stable.

Daryl filled their smoker with pine needles and some scraps of burlap. He snapped his lighter open and lit a small strip of newspaper and dropped it into the container. Pumping the bellows until the fire died down and smoke started to pour out, he looked up at the tree and sighed.

"After this is over somebody is making a _goddamn_ oatmeal honey apple cake tonight and I'm gettin' the first fuckin' piece." 

Rick laughed and nodded and Glenn grabbed Daryl by the bike helmet and turned the older man to face him. "You be careful, alright? It's not worth getting stung so bad that you blow up like a balloon." 

"So long as you promise to kiss it 'n make it all better then I'll be fine." A crooked grin was the last thing Glenn saw before Daryl flicked the face guard of the helmet down and turned to head for the RV.

He carried a big rubber tote with two five gallon buckets in it, one of which held the smoker, with him as he climbed up the ladder on the side of the RV. Once on top of the vehicle he was just about chest-level with the hive entrance. The bees were growing agitated and Daryl could hear them bouncing off of the bike helmet. Lifting the smoker, he began pumping the smoke into the hole in the tree. 

After a few minutes there were fewer bees flying. 

Pulling a small fold-up saw from his pocket, Daryl reached into the hive and felt around for the honeycombs. It would have been easier with bare hands but like hell was he going to even risk fucking with his fingers. He couldn't afford having them out of commission for any amount of time.

Into the tree up to his shoulder, Daryl finally grabbed ahold of a massive honeycomb. He reached in with his other arm and began cutting into it as high up as he could reach. Once it was free he had to break it into two pieces to pull the enormous thing out of the hole. The first bucket was nearly full already just from those pieces.

For around ten minutes he alternated between cutting out combs and placing them into the containers and smoking the hive. Bees not subdued by the smoke were swarming around him and he felt and heard them flying into him constantly. He cursed when one found the small of his back where the shirts had ridden up and stung him. Two more stung him around the same spot shortly after. 

"Buzz off ya little fuckers, I'm leaving you plenty!" 

Two more crawled up his shirts and stung him between his shoulder blades.

Daryl was removing one final comb when over the loud buzzing he heard the sounds of a struggle behind him. Still up to his shoulders in the tree, he twisted around and looked back towards Rick and Glenn. 

Seven walkers had tumbled out of the woods and were bearing down on the two men. Rick had a police baton drawn and ready and Glenn had his machete out. There were two walkers already dead on the ground in front of them. 

Daryl scrambled out from the hive and crouched down low, watching as the undead corpses shuffled closer to the RV on their way to the other men. He reached for the knife on his hip and pulled it from its sheath. When one was close enough, he threw the knife, imbedding it into the walker's head. 

Rick slammed the baton down into the next nearest one's skull, dropping it to the ground. Glenn moved forward and sliced another one across the neck with the machete, severing its head. 

Daryl dropped down from the RV to help finish off the last four. But just as his feet touched the ground he suddenly lost his balance and pitched forward. A badly damaged walker was dragging itself under the RV and had grabbed his foot out from under him. He cursed and kicked at it. 

He heard a panicked shout from Glenn behind him and suddenly there was a heavy weight on his back and he felt brutal, crushing pressure where his neck and shoulder met. Dead, jagged nails clawed into his arms.

He cried out and grabbed the walker on him by the hair and shoved it off and onto the ground. Glenn was on it before Daryl could move any further, hitting it with his machete over and over again until its head was nothing but red pulp. The walker at Daryl's feet snarled and clawed at his boots again and Daryl kicked at its skull until it caved in. When it finally stopped moving he collapsed onto his back, chest heaving with the sudden surge of adrenaline and panic. 

The next thing he knew, Glenn and Rick were shouting at him and Glenn was ripping at his shirt and the scarf around his neck. 

"Don't be bit, don't be bit. You are not bitten, Daryl Dixon and if you are then you might as fucking well shoot me too, Rick because I can't..." 

"m'not - _ow fuck, Glenn!_ I'm not bit!" 

Glenn yanked all of the shirts off of Daryl's shoulder and bared an area of red skin the size of a human mouth with a deep blue-purple bruise already forming underneath it. 

But the skin wasn't broken. 

Saved by duct tape and a puke green scarf.

Glenn's legs gave out and he fell on his ass in the dirt next to Daryl. Rick hissed a "thank fuck" from behind them and wiped at the gore splattering his face. 

Daryl finally pulled the helmet off and sat up. He immediately had his lap and arms full of Glenn. The younger man crushed their lips together but could hardly kiss him for talking.

"Don't you ever dare scare me like that again. I love you Daryl and if you love me too then you won't ever do that again. You'll kill me if you do."

Daryl wrapped his arms tighter around the trembling man and squeezed him against his chest. "I love you too, kid. S'alright, everything's okay. We're okay, Glenn."

Daryl got his goddamn oatmeal honey apple cake that night. In fact, he and Glenn got a whole one to themselves. 

His neck and shoulder were fucked up for a couple of weeks, some sort of damage to his trapezius from the crushing bite according to Hershel, but Glenn doted on him and it healed up alright in the end. 

And now, they had enough honey and beeswax to last for ages. Honey was not only an excellent and multi-use food item that never went bad but it was also an antiseptic. And beeswax had a plethora of uses from candle-making to lubricant for the crossbow. Plus, if their luck held, they'd be able to harvest from the hive again for years to come.

Daryl soon discovered that he liked honey best when he was licking it off of Glenn's trembling, sweat-slick skin.

 

 

Judith was a strong-willed but incredibly well-behaved baby. She didn't screech or scream but she craved attention and started to get fussy if she felt ignored for any amount of time.

Fortunately for her, she was born into a household with ten people. Ten people that were all absolutely smitten with her. Judith already had them all wrapped around her chubby little finger. She was constantly being played with or fed or simply held and talked to. She soaked up the affection like a sponge and made her pleasure known with shrill squeals of delight and happy laughter that echoed throughout the walls of the old farmhouse.

The pregnancy had taken a toll on Lori. Judith was nearly six months old now but Lori was still sickly and tired. She was rail thin and too pale but she continued to dote on her children and showered them with her love. Carol and Rick made sure she got extra rest and plenty to eat and she was slowly but surely finding her old spark again. But now she still tired far too easily in her opinion.

Rick was on the midnight watch one night around the middle of September and Judith was keeping Lori up with a rare fussy mood. First she needed changed, then she was hungry, and after that she was wide awake and ready to play. And then she started whining and sniffling when that still wasn't what she wanted. Lori walked out onto the porch with the baby so as to not wake the others in the household up. 

She was exhausted and could hardly keep her eyes open. A faint breeze rustled through the trees in front of the house and she finally closed her eyes for a moment. She had to stifle a scream when she opened them again. 

The dark silhouette that suddenly appeared in front of her made her gasp and jump back, hands clutching her child against her chest protectively.

The crossbow slung over one shoulder gave the identity of the shadowed figure away.

"Oh God Daryl, you scared me." 

He shuffled his feet sheepishly. "Sorry. Couldn't sleep so I went to talk to Rick 'bout making a run in the next day or two."

They stood quietly for a moment, both watching Judith. She seemed in a slightly better mood after coming outside into the cooler air. Now she was entertaining herself with her own toes and chattered animately at them and tried to jam them up into her mouth. Daryl glanced up at Lori from under his too-long bangs.

"Y'okay?"

She smiled and nodded, rocking Judith. The baby squealed and pulled at her mother's long dark hair. 

"Want a break?" 

Lori sighed and untangled Judith's little fists from her hair. "I'm too tired to even put up a fight. Would you mind?" 

Daryl unslung the crossbow from around his shoulders and leaned it against the porch railing. "Wouldn't'a offered if I did. Come on, let me see Lil' Asskicker there." He pushed his old horse blanket poncho back out of the way and held his arms out for the baby.

The exhausted mother laughed and handed the squirming child over to Daryl. "I don't know where you got that nickname from but she's definitely kicked mine to the curb tonight."

Judith gurgled happily at Daryl as he settled her in his arms. She reached up and grabbed at the scruff on his chin. Daryl winced when she yanked on the greying hair there.

Lori leaned forward and kissed Judith's forehead. Smiling softly at Daryl, she reached out and squeezed his arm. "Thank you, Daryl. Just bring her back whenever you get ready for a break yourself." 

He nodded at her and jerked his head towards the house. "Go on 'n get some sleep. I'll make sure she don't get into too much trouble." 

Lori chuckled and slipped back inside, glancing over her shoulder at the pair before pulling the door shut behind her.

Daryl swayed and crooned nonsense at Judith for a minute before quietly walking around to the other end of the porch where Glenn was still sound asleep in their hammock. Kid could sleep through a damn freight train running over him. While a marching band played off to the side.

Daryl smiled and paced back up the porch a ways. He sank down into one of the wooden rocking chairs and cradled the baby against him. He scooted the chair closer to the porch railing and propped his feet up on it. Judith's bright blue eyes watched him intently and he chuckled, stroking her wispy brown hair out of her face. 

"So s'at how it's gonna be now, little miss? Everyone else just starts to go to sleep and you start gettin' all wound up?"

Her eyes crinkled as a gummy smile was directed at him and she snuggled down against his warm chest. Several tiny fingers found their way into her mouth to be gnawed on. Her other hand made a fist in the soft fabric of his shirt. After a moment she sneakily tried to pull a button into her mouth.

"Nu-uh, s'not for chewing on. You're gonna be a hellion, I can tell that already. Damn good thing your folks got all of us around because it's gonna take an army to keep up with your shenanigans."

The baby trilled and pulled her saliva covered fingers out of her mouth and grabbed at his chin again. Daryl caught her fist in the soft blanket Lori had covered her with before bringing her outside. He tucked her arms against her chest and wrapped her up. 

"What'cha gonna do about that, huh darlin'? Not a thing 'cause now yer a baby burrito." 

She huffed and squirmed at the sudden confinement but quickly quieted down and soon seemed content enough. After wriggling further into the blanket and curling herself against his chest she closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. 

Daryl smiled and gently stroked the shell of her ear. The air was cooling down a bit, likely from a storm that he and Rick had watched forming to the north earlier. Shame it seemed like it would miss them - they could use the rain - but the cooler air was better than nothing. He tucked the old horse blanket tighter around the baby and himself and settled down to roost for the night. 

Just before dawn, Daryl slowly drifted awake at the sound of movement to his left. He tensed, arms tightening around the baby still passed against him, but Glenn murmured softly and touched his shoulder. "Just me."

Daryl grunted and shifted his legs around. He'd fallen asleep with them up on the porch railing and they had gone numb.

"If you weren't holding an innocent little baby right now I would tell you in explicit detail exactly how fucking sexy you look and what that makes me want to do to you. Shit Daryl, I wanna have your babies."

That surprised a laugh out of Daryl. He tipped his head back to look up at Glenn. The younger man grinned and leaned down to kiss him. 

Daryl suddenly discovered simultaneously that Judith was awake and that she also had her first tooth when she leaned forward and bit down on his chest, right next to a nipple. He winced and broke his and Glenn's kiss to look down at the baby. She was gurgling through her mouthful of shirt and looking up at the two men with big blue eyes. 

"How come everyone keeps biting me? Guess I must be tasty or something." He poked at Judith's nose and she giggled and tried to bite him again before he gently pushed her away and stuck a corner of her blanket in her mouth.

"Mmhmm, downright delicious." Glenn murmured in his ear and nibbled at it gently. 

 

 

 

Daryl and Andrea started making their own beer. 

They both had experimented with homemade brews in the past, Andrea during her dorm days and Daryl just for the hell of it and so they had a pretty good idea of what they were doing. 

Andrea had suggested the idea to Daryl almost a month ago and it had been churning in his mind ever since. Then one day the two of them, along with Glenn, finally made a run for some of the specific ingredients. They could make their own sugar and malt extract if they needed to from the sugar beets and barley they'd planted, but it had been a few weeks since anyone had made a run and they were getting a touch of cabin fever. So they decided to try scavenging for the ingredients first. And besides, Rick and Hershel might not take too well to them raiding their stores just to make alcohol. 

They probably wouldn't be too keen on the trio using up fuel to go get the ingredients either but you just can't please everyone. And besides, they loaded up on other useful goodies while they were out too.

They'd found just what they needed at a small Mom & Pop grocery store not far from the pharmacy they'd cleared out last year. It was tucked out of the way and save for the produce and meat department smelling like death on a hot afternoon, most of the rest of the store was in decent, not-looted shape. 

They had their weapons out and ready as they cleared the building. Andrea found one walker in an aisle surrounded by soda cans that had exploded from the summer heat. It didn't stir until she got closer and then its rotten eyes opened and it started crawling towards her. She crushed its head with a crowbar. 

Once the building was cleared (four more walkers were found and taken down) they loaded their backpacks and a shopping cart full of toiletries, practically everything from the aisle with medicine and first aid supplies, canned goods, dried goods, including a few pounds of sugar, some malt extract, and yeast, and some other odds and ends. 

They packed the car as full as they could get it and headed out. They stopped to siphon gas out of a few cars along the way, filling up several red cans that were tucked into the back of the car. 

And after returning home they went to work. 

It wasn't that the process required them to make a huge mess but neither Andrea nor Daryl (and Glenn was just observing so he couldn't be blamed either) were terribly masterful at operating in kitchen spaces so they they'd taken over most of the room and dirtied far more dishes than could possibly be necessary, much to Carol, Lori, and Beth's dismay.

"They'll get over it once they taste this liquid gold." Andrea said with a grin. 

Daryl, one of his few remaining cigarettes hanging out of the corner of his mouth, chuckled and dumped the malt extract into the boiling water. He stirred for a while and then handed it off to Andrea to finish up.

Glenn was perched up on the countertop watching the process and gnawing on some venison jerky. Daryl hopped up to sit next to him and swiped a piece of the jerky.

"Okay, story time. What's the dumbest thing you guys have ever done while drunk?" Glenn grinned around his mouthful of jerky.

"Got even more drunk." Glenn flicked Daryl's ear and the man cursed and elbowed him in the side. 

"I almost got married. To my boss."

Daryl and Glenn both stared at Andrea with their mouths hanging open, jerky and cigarette forgotten. She smiled sheepishly and kept stirring the malt.

"To be fair, we were both very, very young and we'd kinda been dropping hints at one another for a while. Then we got word that corporate was shutting down our office branch. Everyone got massively wasted at the going away party we had. One thing led to another and he proposed to me right there in the middle of the bar. I'd have said yes if a friend of mind hadn't stepped in and whisked me away to the ladies room to try and talk some sense into me." 

"Wow. Ever see him again?" Glenn leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his heels bumping the cabinet doors below him. Daryl stole the rest of his jerky while he was distracted.

"Every once in a while. We did even go out a couple of times but you know how life is. I decided to study law, he went on another manager's position for a different company out of state, so we just sort of drifted apart. I still do have those 'what-if' thoughts when I remember that night at the bar though." She grew quiet and stared down into the bubbling pot as she stirred. 

Glenn frowned and glanced at Daryl from the corner of his eye. He leaned closer so their shoulders were touching.

Daryl broke the quiet after a few minutes.

"Merle n' me were trashed and leaving this bar outside Atlanta one night quite a few years ago. At the top of a staircase leading to the exit we met this young guy with a broken leg in a cast. He started down the stairs, going real slow 'cause of his crutches 'n all, and Merle started making fun of him. Finally told the guy to give him the crutches and he'd show him how it was done. He danced around for a bit and then on the first step he took Merle fell down the stairs, head over heels, and broke his own damn leg." 

A laugh startled out of Andrea but she quickly attempted to cover it with a cough, afraid of offending the man sharing a memory of his late brother. Glenn bit his lip to keep from grinning and watched Daryl closely. There was a twinkle in the other man's eye and he exhaled a fat ring of smoke.

"I helped the kid down the stairs and when we got to Merle, who was shouting and cursin' up a storm, kid told him to keep the crutches since he seemed to know how to use 'em so well. And then he just hobbled on over to the bar and ordered a drink. 

"Merle went after him but one of the kid's buddies turned up then and gave Merle a black eye. He was livid and would have killed both of 'em with those damn crutches if I hadn't drug his drunk ass out of there and to the hospital. Where he got another black eye to go with the first one after trying to feel up a nurse."

He took another long drag on his cigarette. "Definitely not one of his best nights."

Daryl finally snickered then and Andrea and Glenn finally burst out laughing. 

Turned out Andrea snorted when she laughed really hard. 

 

 

As foals are usually want to do, according to Herschel, Nervous Nellie's came around two in the morning on a bitterly cold and rainy October night. It wasn't the mare's first so instinct took over and the birth was as easy as could be hoped for. Daryl and Herschel stayed close, ready to assist if the need arose but it never did. 

"Wake up, sweetheart."

Glenn groaned when Daryl's cold hand pulled at his shoulder. "Go away. 'm sleeeeeping."

A husky chuckle sent a puff of warm air against his ear. "C'mon, I wanna show ya something." 

Daryl practically had to dress Glenn himself and once he helped him into his boots he bundled him up in a thick blanket and herded him down the stairs and out to the stables. 

The colt was snow white except for a cap of a rich rust brown coloring his ears and the crown of his head. His glassy blue eyes shown bright in the dim lamp light illuminating the stable. The mare had licked him clean and he was beginning to flail his spindly legs about in an attempt to master the fine art of coordination.

Daryl smiled as he watched Glenn watching the foal. The man look like a kid, bed hair sticking in every direction and his dark eyes shining with wonder as he took in the scene before him. Daryl leaned close against him and Glenn rested his head on the older man's shoulder.

"He's adorable."

"He's special too. See that brown patch on his head? S'called a Medicine Hat. Means him and anyone that rides him'll have good luck and stay safe from harm."

"So he's gonna have super powers? That's pretty awesome."

"More Indian legend and less comic book but yeah. I always liked that story."

The colt staggered to his hooves. He wobbled to the left and then to the right and nearly toppled over but he managed to stayed upright. The mare nickered at him and he stumbled towards her. His pink muzzle bumped against her flank and then her belly before finding her udder and latching onto a nipple to suckle.

Frank was in the stall across from them and he leaned over to nicker at the pair. Daryl reached out and scratched at his forelock. 

"Congrats, old boy." 

 

 

 

Daryl and Glenn were curled up against each other in the nest of bedding in their small upstairs room next to the attic. Heat rises and the old stove downstairs did a fairly decent job of keeping the place warm but it was still chilly and it had started snowing heavily just after sundown. 

Glenn pulled them further into the blankets until even their heads were nearly covered and Daryl snorted. 

"Gettin' ready to hibernate there?"

Glenn grinned and bit playfully at Daryl's scruffy jaw. "Yes. And I'm not coming out until I see my shadow and you have to stay with me unless we get hungry and then I'll bundle you up and send you on a run for hot chocolate and donuts. And then I'll get my laptop and we can watch South Park and dumb movies on Netflix under the covers."

Daryl rumbled and stroked his hand up and down the younger man's back. Glenn practically purred.

"Or maybe we could just sleep in a little in the mornin' and then I'll bring ya some stale coffee?"

"Yeah I guess that could work too." 

Daryl was tired and that made him warm and surprisingly pliant. Glenn took full advantage of this and pressed his front against the older man's side and threw a leg over his narrow hips. He tucked his head under Daryl's chin and listened to him breathing deeply.

"You asleep?"

"Yes."

"Tell me a story."

"Are you six or something?" Daryl mumbled into Glenn's soft hair, his arm coming to wrap tighter around Glenn's shoulders. 

"How about the medicine hat horse? Where'd you hear that one?"

Daryl was quiet for a moment and Glenn tipped his head back to look at him. Daryl avoided his gaze and stared at the fat snow flakes falling outside while gnawing on his lower lip.

"My aunt had a bunch of those Marguerite Henry horse books when she was a kid and they'd been left behind at the house we moved into after momma died. Daddy was livid when he caught me with them. Said I was a faggot to be reading books for girls but I kept on. Used to hide out in the barn or in the woods when I read 'em."

Glenn leaned up and kissed him before settling down with his head over Daryl's heart. He wrapped his arm tightly around the man's waist while his gaze drifted to the long angry scar just below Daryl's clavicle that peaked out from under his shirt. 

Judith cried out in one of the rooms below them. They both tensed but but soon sounds of Rick and Lori stirring could be heard as they got up to tend to her. Daryl slowly released the breath he'd been holding. 

"There was one about a frontier kid named Peter Lundy and his horse, San Domingo, the medicine hat stallion. I read all of those books but San Domingo was always my favorite. Daddy finally got fed up and threw them all into the fireplace but I kept that one hid away. Read the damn thing until it fell apart and I had to duct tape it back together a few times." 

Warm fingers played with the long hair at the nape of Glenn's neck. The younger man sighed and listened to Daryl's heartbeat for a minute. 

"I think that's what we should name him. The colt I mean. We should name him San Domingo." 

The corners of Daryl's eyes crinkled as he smiled. 

"I'm gonna call him San D. for short though. Throw a little modern flare on it." 

Glenn's head rose and fell with the heavy sigh Daryl blew through his nostrils. "You're an odd one, kid."

 

 

Winter was coming on again but this time they were ready for it. All spring, summer, and fall had been spent prepping and storing items away for the cold months ahead. The basement, pantry, and extra store room they'd built were fit to burst with all of the goods they collected through the year and put away for the leaner months. They dug out another root cellar just for storage too. Hell, a lot of it had spilled into the rest of the house too. 

They had canned their own fruits and vegetables, dried, salted, and canned all sorts of meat, stored a few winter squash and other vegetables away underground where they would keep for months, jarred honey from the bee hive, and they put away walnuts, pecans, and almonds collected from local trees they found.

Their new barn was stuffed full with the three cuttings of hay they had been able to put away. It would be more than enough to take care of their livestock over the winter. 

But now it was still fairly warm. Sand D. was following Daryl around while he worked on replacing a few broken boards in the fence of the one of the paddocks connected to the stables. The colt was woolly with his thick baby hair but growing up fast. He was also a mischievous hellion. 

He pranced up behind Daryl and yanked the red rag he always carried out from his back pocket, dashing off with it. The man snorted and rolled his eyes. "You're a brat." 

The colt whinnied and ran around with his trophy for a few minutes before dropping the rag into the dust. He pawed at it for a moment then trotted back to his mother, butting up against her to nurse. Nellie had her head buried up in a pile of hay while she ate next to Gypsy, the other mare, who Daryl had a sneaking suspicion was pregnant now. He glanced over at Frank. The black and white stallion was eating hay with Maggie's gelding, Buck, in the second paddock. 

Old stud had certainly been enjoying himself during his first year on the farm. 

"One great big horsey family." 

"You could help hold this board, ya know."

Glenn shifted around on his perch on top of the metal gate to the paddock. "I suppose I could but I'm really enjoying the view from here." 

Daryl snorted and shook his head. "You are a damn horndog."

"What's the matter, old man? Having a hard time keeping up?" 

"Ain't that old and I ain't having a hard time keeping anything up as you know very well." 

"I may be in need of a reminder." Glenn's grin was positively lecherous. 

They ended up crammed into one corner of an empty stall, still dressed except for open flies, panting into each other's mouths and stroking each other's cocks with spit and precome slick fingers. 

Daryl pulled away from Glenn's grabbing and groping hands and dropped to his knees in the hay. Squeezing Glenn's thigh with one hand he wrapped the other around the base of his cock and swallowed it down. Glenn's knees buckled and he fell back to rest his weight against the rough lumber wall behind them. 

Daryl followed and lapped at the weeping slit of his cock. He mouthed the tip, sucked hard and then swallowed it down again and started bobbing his head. Moaning softly around the mouthful, he looked up at the younger man from under his lashes. 

Glenn whined and grabbed at Daryl's hair. "Fuck. C'mere."

He pulled and Daryl followed, letting his dick slide free with a wet pop. There was a predatory gleam in his blue eyes as he crowded up close to Glenn and sucked a biting kiss to the other man's lips. Glenn growled and thrust his tongue against Daryl's, stroking hot and wet.

Daryl pulled back again, just out of reach of Glenn's panting mouth, and rocked his hips against Glenn's.

Glenn clawed into Daryl's leather covered arms when their slick cocks rubbed together. Daryl wrapped his hand around them both and stroked hard and fast. He leaned forward and suckled on Glenn's earlobe.

"Is that what you were after? That what you want, sweetheart?"

Eyes hooded and glassy with lust, Glenn sobbed and thrust into the tight grip of the fist around his dick.

Daryl sucked hard kisses against his jaw and throat. He scraped his teeth against Glenn's pounding pulse. "C'mon, lemme see it. Let me see ya come to pieces, Glenn."

Glenn jolted like he'd been shocked, a ragged moan leaving his lips as pumped his hips and spent over Daryl's fingers and cock. 

"That's it, darlin'." He crooned into Glenn's ear, voice low and rumbling while he milked the younger man dry. 

"Oh sweet fuck, Daryl." Once his trembling limbs calmed he reached up and scrubbed his fingers against Daryl's scalp. "Christ."

Daryl started thrusting gently against Glenn. When the shuddering aftershocks slowed and he was finally able to breathe again, Glenn kissed him. Sticky fingers pressed and rubbed against Daryl's belly, following the trail of hair down from his navel to his straining dick. He was already on edge and it didn't take long once those warm fingers started working him. 

Crying out against Glenn's shoulder, Daryl came hard and bit down on the fabric over Glenn's collarbone. He whimpered and shuddered before finally slumping heavily against Glenn. They slowly slid down the wall until they were sprawled against each other in the hay, Glenn's come-covered hand still trapped between them.

They were quiet for a few minutes and then Daryl's body was moving with Glenn's as the younger man started laughing. 

Glenn opened his mouth to speak but Daryl reached up and pressed a finger against his lips.

"There will be no round two if that's a 'roll in the hay' joke about to come outta yer mouth." 

Glenn pouted but then his tongue darted out and he sucked the digit into his mouth. Daryl smirked.

"That's better." 

 

 

 

A few years passed. 

Countless numbers of walkers fell at the hands of Rick and his people. Fewer and fewer made their way to the farm as time passed and those that did never got very far onto their land. But they were an ever-present threat, never meant to be taken lightly.

They encountered a few other survivors too. They took in a small passing group for a few weeks one summer. It was a group not unlike their own, one big mismatched family with a couple of kids, but instead of settling in one place they had taken on a nomadic lifestyle. 

The two groups did a little trading before they parted ways. Rick's group got some sheep for wool, a big jack donkey that they planned to breed to their mares to make mule colts, two recently weaned hunting hound pups, and a few tools they needed. They traded some chickens, one milk cow and her bull calf, some new wheels for their wagon, a few jars of honey, and some of Daryl and Andrea's homemade brew. 

Everyone was smitten with the puppies but Daryl, Glenn, and Judith were especially taken with them. They were some sort of coonhound mixes and they were floppy and adorable. Both of them had some smarts and with a little training and time they turned out to be excellent hunting hounds. 

Daryl took them with him to catch quail, duck, and the occasional wild pig that they tracked down. And then when they came home Glenn would give them baths and extra scraps and Judith would play with them and make flower chain collars for them to wear.

Judith named the female puppy Princess Mario Zelda (due to a recent discussion Glenn and Carl had with her where they attempted to explain what video games were) and Glenn named the male Mr. Bartholomew J. Clifford (Clifford because he was red and had big feet so that meant he'd be big when he grew up and the rest just for the hell of it). 

Daryl told them they weren't allowed to name anything anymore.

Gasoline went bad after the first year. With a great deal of trial and error they finally managed to convert a couple of the vehicles to run on water. They found some engine conversion kits in an old automotive parts warehouse they scavenged for supplies. It had been a pet project for a long while but they finally got one working. And then a second. And finally they had a fleet of three working vehicles with plans to possibly try for more in the future.

But most of the time, if they needed to go a long distance, they'd take one or two of the horses and hook them up to a wagon if they needed to gather any supplies.

Daryl often rode Frank on hunting trips, with Princess Mario Zelda and Mr. Bartholomew J. Clifford trotting alongside them. The black and white stallion had sired five colts since Daryl found him that first year. Two with Nervous Nellie, two with Gypsy, and then one with another mare they'd found and taken in. Only the first, San D., had the medicine hat marking. But the others were all sound and solid animals.

Daryl and Andrea made a new friend near the end of the second year. They stumbled across her one early morning while on patrol checking fences and livestock. She was outside of the fence, just passing through. 

She had a samurai sword jammed up the throat and into the skull of a walker and the remains of three others at her feet.

She was dark and silent and scowling and would have likely continued on her way if they hadn't offered her food and she hadn't been exhausted and starving. Staying just one night turned into two nights which turned into a week which turned into becoming a permanent, valuable member of the group.

Her name was Michonne and she and Andrea became especially close. She was a hard worker, a damn good fighter, and tough as fucking nails. Daryl had a lot of respect for that.

 

 

 

Some people they encountered weren't so nice. 

A party of eight men attacked them late one night. Glenn had been walking out to the windmill for his watch shift when one of them shot him. Thankfully, their marksmen were not nearly as skilled as Rick's group and the bullet hit him in the shoulder. 

Glenn shot three of the men, including the one that had fired on him, in the head before he could no longer hold his gun up. Daryl was on him then, picked him up like he weighed nothing and ran back to the house screaming for Hershel while Rick, Michonne, T-Dog, and Andrea covered them and took out the rest of the intruders.

Daryl was a wreck but as soon as he realized Glenn would be alright he turned on the one remaining man from the attacking group that Rick managed to capture alive.

The snarling, cursing brute of a man had spilled everything about who they were and where they came from after a few minutes alone with an enraged Daryl Dixon. 

They lived in a town called Woodbury up northeast, about a hundred miles away. It had started out as a group of over sixty but the man in charge, some guy called the Governor, had started killing off anyone that didn't want to be a mercenary in his little army. Or that wasn't a woman or child that could be abused or provide entertainment.

The Governor and his group found out about the farm after one of their scouting parties encountered the little nomad family that had stayed with Rick's group for a few weeks. 

The man Daryl was interrogating lost his front teeth and had his testicles crushed with a brutal kick after divulging what his group had done to those people.

Other than the eight men that had attacked the farm there were 20 soldiers remaining in the town. 

When he was done talking, Daryl had killed the man before Rick could intervene.

The next morning, before the others could protest any further and before Glenn woke up, Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Andrea, and T-Dog loaded some of their still considerable arsenal (which now included a nice little cache of military grade weapons from the Woodbury men they'd killed) into one of the cars and set off before dawn.

It was a slow trek since most of the roads were trashed, blocked, or destroyed but they arrived shortly after nightfall. After scoping out the walled in town they made their move. 

They took out the four guards on watch and then they were over the wall and in. 

The Governor would have been an unassuming man if not for the eye patch and the manic smile on his face as the smell of fire and gunpowder and the sound of screams filled the night air around him. 

He and his men greeted Rick's group with a hail of bullets. One grazed Andrea across her face and severed part of her ear. Rick took one in his hand and his cry of pain echoed through the street. But with the fury and adrenaline coursing through them they didn't slow down a bit. 

Six more Woodbury soldiers fell.

When only a handful of his men remained, the Governor found himself cornered by a man with fire blazing in his eyes, aiming a crossbow at his head.

He shot Daryl in the side but one of Daryl's arrows imbedded itself in his remaining eye and it went straight through to his brain.

When the last man fell, Rick and his people quickly and crudely bandaged up their wounds as best as they could and then searched the town for any stragglers. 

They found six women, three from the little nomad group, chained up in a small dungeon-like room in the basement of one of the main buildings on the street. 

Andrea and T-Dog were sick as soon as they entered the room.

One of the women didn't make it through the night, succumbing to her brutal injuries. Despite Rick's pleading the other five wouldn't come back to the farm, choosing instead to stay together and move on once they were well enough. He left the dead Woodbury soldiers' guns and some ammunition and whatever supplies that might be salvageable in the town to them.

Before they left to go home to the farm they drug the bodies of the soldiers outside of the wall and burned them. 

Rick didn't comment on the fact that the Governor's corpse was missing its ears. 

Glenn was waiting on the front porch for them when they arrived back home. He slapped Daryl across the face as soon as the man was close enough but then he crashed against him in an embrace made rather awkward by his injured shoulder and Daryl's bloodied side. 

"I told you to never scare me like that again."

"Yeah, well, you started it this time, kid." 

"I guess we're even now." 

 

 

 

He stroked his fingers over freckles and tattoos and scars. New and old scars alike.

Daryl's skin was marked with many of each. 

A late afternoon thunderstorm had driven them all inside earlier that day. It was a gentle and welcome shower, giving much needed rain to some of their later crops.

Daryl and Glenn were draped across each other in their bed, naked after stripping off wet clothes, and listening to the rain pattering on the tin roof above them and the low rumbles of thunder that echoed across the countryside. 

Glenn was in a very tactile mood this evening (when was he not though) and his warm fingers were roaming across Daryl's still-damp skin.

There was no real heat behind the gestures, not yet anyway, and Daryl found that he didn't mind being exposed and explored. At least not by Glenn.

Glenn traced the demon tattooed on the inside of his arm, the tiny symbols on his hand and wrist, the snake on his thigh. 

Fingers roamed over and explored hipbones, ribs, chest, and belly button.

He caressed the raised ridges of white and brown old scars and red-purple new scars. His hand lingered over Daryl's lowest ribs, cupping over the healed through-and-through bullet hole the Governor left him with.

He ran a fingernail gently along a nipple and watched it harden with the stimulation. Daryl sighed contentedly.

One of Daryl's own hands found its way to Glenn's hip and he held it loosely, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against the smooth skin. 

His other hand slowly drifted up towards the shiny pink skin of the star-shaped scar on Glenn's shoulder. 

Glenn smiled at the attention and nuzzled up under Daryl's jaw.

They were both sound asleep when Carol called them for dinner. 

 

 

The little upstairs room slowly but surely became more and more cosy and cluttered as time crept by. The group had built a couple more additions on to the house but Glenn and Daryl never moved from their tiny bedroom by the attic. Unless it was the hot summertime of course, and then they set up their hammock on the porch again.

Their bed grew with more pilfered blankets and pillows until it spilled over into nearly half of the room. 

They wrangled a small dresser and coat stand up the narrow stairway and tucked them into one corner. The coat rack became home to (when they weren't in use, of course) Daryl's leather vest with the wings stitched on the back and his horse blanket poncho as well as Glenn's coat and beloved baseball cap. He also had a baseball bat, gloves, and a couple of balls tucked away in the closet with their clothes. He'd brought them home after a supply run to a sporting goods store and the group had played quite a few games out in the fields since then. 

They tucked a small table for their candles and single lantern in near one side of the bed. 

A few random books and magazines that they'd come across here and there that had struck their fancy were piled in one corner. 

There was a picture that Carl had drawn (and that Judith helped color) of the horses tacked up by the window. Buck, Nervous Nellie, Gypsy, and the other horses and mules were small brownish blobs in the background but Frank and San D. were front and center and drawn pretty damn well in Daryl's opinion. Kid was turning into quite an artist. 

And he could ride like a seasoned cowboy, Daryl had made sure of that.

And San D. was proving the legend of the medicine hat true. On Carl's first solo outing on him they'd gotten themselves surrounded by a dozen walkers. Carl shot most of them down but the gun and the moaning undead spooked the young horse and he reared up. Carl managed to hang on and San. D. took out the last two walkers when his flailing hooves connected with their skulls. 

When they got home and Carl told him what happened Daryl had been so damn proud of both of them.

At night, boots and weapons were kept by the door to their room. No one had seen a walker near the farm in almost a month but the group was always ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Their bedroom walls were steadily becoming decorated with trophies Daryl hung up. 

There was the skull from a buck with a massive sixteen point rack that he'd shot last winter hanging on one wall. There were a few smaller racks cut off from the skull nailed up on other walls. A few random small pelts and feathers from catches Princess Mario Zelda and Mr. Bartholomew J. Clifford had helped him take down were tucked here and there around the room as well. 

Any little knick knack that Daryl found that struck his fancy made its way into their room too. Some were useful, others not so much. 

There were extra pieces and parts that he'd collected for working on his crossbow and guns, arrows (some manufactured, others hand-made), nearly a dozen knives in a variety of shapes and sizes, a crude sewing kit, scraps of leather and fabric for repairing shoes and clothes (Carol, Beth, and Lori did most of that but Daryl always insisted on doing his own, which, over time, had evolved into doing Glenn's as well), a few random rocks, fossils, and a couple of arrowheads lined up along the window sill, a pack of very worn playing cards that he'd taught Glenn, Carl, and Beth how to play poker with, and of all things, an ipod with a solar powered charger that he and Glenn found in a house that they had dug through during one of their runs a few months ago. 

It had a few hundred songs on it in quite a mix of genres. Glenn, the closet Lady Gaga fan that he was, was stoked to find a couple of her albums on it. Daryl claimed he hadn't heard of most of the artists before but there was some Johnny Cash, Motorhead, and Skynyrd so he was a happy camper. And Glenn enjoyed at least trying to introduce him to a few of the other artists. Some nights they'd curl up against each other, each with an earbud in, and argue over what to listen to.

( Glenn nearly bit through his lip to keep from making a ridiculous sound when he slipped into the kitchen late one afternoon for a snack to find it empty except for Daryl and Judith sitting at the table. The little girl was parked in his lap with a partially eaten but now forgotten apple held between her little fists. She was smiling brightly at Daryl while he hummed and murmured a few lyrics from Judas to her. )

It entertained Glenn to no end that Daryl was such a pack rat with all the bits and pieces he'd store away in their room. At least, it was entertaining until he tripped over one or more of those treasures. Or lost something in it all.

The beard and tail feather fan from the tom turkey that Daryl had shot while Glenn was driving them home from the cabin where they'd found the gun safe were still hanging up too. Daryl had mounted its middle finger salute feet onto a small wooden plaque that he had carved delicate little vines and leaves onto. The feet faced out from the wall and he'd taken to hanging small trinkets on them. Namely his old shoe string of walker ears.

Glenn had gotten used to and honestly loved everything in their cramped little space. All the odds and ends and clutter, everything that just screamed Daryl and Glenn and _us_ and _home_.

But that ear necklace still weirded him out a bit. Mostly because he would swear that two of the ears looked like they hadn't come from a walker.

END


End file.
